


JohnLock: Five Bloody Minutes

by KingOfHearts709



Category: Sherlock - Fandom, johnlock - Fandom, zombies - Fandom
Genre: Character Death, M/M, Shooting, Zombies, bitten
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-12
Updated: 2015-07-12
Packaged: 2018-04-09 01:33:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4328673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KingOfHearts709/pseuds/KingOfHearts709
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He was only gone five minutes, just five damn bloody minutes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	JohnLock: Five Bloody Minutes

**Author's Note:**

> This was based off of fanart I found somewhere.  
> Thanks to an AWESOME person in the comments, HERE is the fanart: http://inklou.deviantart.com/art/Five-Minutes-275160084 xoxo

Turning the corner had never been so dangerous before. Walking down the street had never been such a deathwish. And losing someone in this apocalypse had never been so painful.  
Because you saw them after they died.  
John ran down the street, desperate to get back to Sherlock. He shouldn’t have left him, no, it was so stupid to leave him alone. Without John, Sherlock was lost, his sense of judgement fragmented and his mind clouded.  
Zombies.  
Plain and simple, such a small term until you run into one.  
That’s what John was afraid of, of Sherlock becoming a corpse like all the others. It had already happened to Mrs. Hudson and Donovan, even Mycroft.  
John wouldn’t let this happen to Sherlock.  
He took out his ever present revolver and kept it in his hand for fear of getting to close to the walking dead. He had his cane in the other, the only close combat weapon he could find. He swung it at a moving body when he got too close, causing it to hit the ground with a shattering thud. He was thankful that the streets were almost empty, giving him more leeway to weave through the now-battered concrete. He came upon the door to 221, hoping Sherlock hadn’t done anything to cause himself harm.  
He was wrong.  
“Sherlock?” John called as he shut the door behind him to keep corpses away. “Sherlock!” He bounded up the stairs, a concerned and determined look on his face.  
No.  
God, no.  
Sherlock lay on the ground, blood gushing from his arm, eyes closed in pain.  
“John,” he said quietly. A dead body lay on the couch, cold arms draped down the side.  
“Sherlock, what happened?” John said incredulously. Sherlock lifted himself in pain and hurt, standing and wobbling for a few seconds before holding out his gashed arm. Blood stained the ripped purple sleeve and his face, mixing with the tears that started to fall from his eyes.  
“John, I... I didn’t want to tell you.”  
“You should have told me! You should have let me help you!” Sherlock closed his eyes and sat back down, letting his arm fall to his lap.  
“I think the process is speeding up.” John rubbed his and looked at his flatmate, angry at him and worried for him. His world was shattered, pieces of memories making a vengeance to cause him pain.  
***  
“That was the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever done.”  
“You invaded Afghanistan.”  
***  
Suddenly, Sherlock’s body writhed vigorously, shaking quickly on the ground before going still and silent.  
That was it.  
He was gone.  
Until...  
Sherlock stood, his mangled body tilted down and arms swinging carelessly back and forth. A growl emitted from the dead man’s mouth as he took a step towards John. Salted tears forced their way out of John’s eyes as he held up the gun.  
“I was gone for five minutes, Sherlock,” John whispered to his dead friend. “Five bloody minutes.”  
Then he fired.


End file.
